


Rubik's

by nonnie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, First Kiss, Friendship, Gender Issues, Genderqueer Character, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-27
Updated: 2011-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonnie/pseuds/nonnie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A high school AU where Castiel is an androgynous genderqueer student, and Dean is another student who has no idea what to do with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rubik's

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Rubik's](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341830) by [tea_in_tea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_in_tea/pseuds/tea_in_tea)



> Written by an Anon based on an idea that rose out of the ether at spnanonhaven.
> 
> Author Anon apologizes if she got anything wrong or offensive in this fic, and is open for comment.

There were journalists when zie was younger, crawling all over Castiel’s parents’ lawn and demanding _why are you doing this_ and _is this is a social statement_ and _how do you feel about other parents_ , as if there had to be a bigger picture than their giving their only child the freedom of identity, of which Castiel can define any way zie wants.

The questions are normal, the curiosity is normal, the disdainful side-eyes absolutely normal and in most cases even expected.

What’s not normal – and is in fact brand new – is Dean Winchester, who’s at this moment frozen and staring wide-eyed at Castiel, a screwdriver in his mouth and Castiel’s locker open in front of him.

“What...” Castiel pauses, anger bubbling up through zir’s surprise, “...are you doing?”

Dean’s mouth falls open, the screwdriver falling into his hand. He looks as shocked as Castiel feels, and when Castiel’s eyes flicker towards the locker, Dean’s hand jumps away from where it had been hovering over zir’s things.

Not thievery, not vandalism. _Worse._

Castiel steps forward, slamming the locker door shut and making Dean jump. “What is your _problem_?” zie hisses.

“Uh, nothing,” Dean protests weakly, the hand holding the screwdriver disappearing behind his back.

But Castiel knows the answer to that. Zie supposes zie should have known from the day Mary Winchester came by their house to welcome their family to the neighborhood, and Dean had been at her shoulder to carry his mother’s welcome pie, and how Dean had been looking elsewhere, lazy and disinterested until he’d noticed Castiel.

Castiel had braced zirself, even with zir’s mother a protective presence by zir’s side as she broke into friendly small talk. Mary had been polite, eyebrows going up when she’d glanced at Castiel but not pushing any further, but ah, Dean. Castiel had rolled zir’s eyes internally at the unsurprising slow smirk that had slid across Dean’s face. When the conversation between parents wound down and Mary excused themselves, Dean lingered just long enough to say his first words to Castiel: “Nice flip flops.”

“It’s comfortable,” Castiel had snapped, only to realize a heartbeat later that Dean’s comment had been for zir’s sandals. The door closed, the Winchesters left, and Castiel found zirself at the window watching them walk away.

“They’re nice,” Castiel’s mother had said.

“I suppose.”

When they were finally out of view, Castiel turned around, catching zir’s reflection in the dining room mirror. Zie saw what Dean saw: messy dark hair, eyes too soft for a typical boy’s, jaw too hard for a typical girl’s, a boy’s shirt with the sleeves rolled up, pale unshaven calves peeking out from under a sensible straight black skirt.

The old Batman flip flops had been the least of Castiel’s worries.

It should’ve been a portent of good things. Or, if not good things, then at least tolerable things, not things like finding Dean poking around Castiel’s locker in search of clues of what’s down zir’s pants.

“Did you hope to find tampons?” Castiel asks dryly. “Or aftershave?”

Dean’s mouth open and closes. He looks afraid. He _should_ be afraid.

Castiel pokes a finger to Dean’s collarbone. Most boys and some girls flinch away from zir all the time, and though Dean’s never done that before in the times they’ve interacted in class or as lab partners or even out in the field, he does now. A full body flinch, and it’s clear he wants to flee.

Castiel tries to quell the sinking feeling in zir’s stomach. “Would you like to grope me now and be done with it?”

That snaps Dean out of his deer-in-headlights panic. He growls, “I’d never do that.”

“Oh, really?” Castiel regards Dean cynically. “So I just imagined you tailing me around school and bothering my parents at home and getting detention for breaking into the school records?”

Such sins when piled up together are obvious, but until this exact moment Castiel hadn’t been able to see them for what they were. Not when there had also been Dean asking zir what pronouns to use when they got paired up for lab, and Dean cracking jokes to get the boys to loosen up when Castiel tried out for the baseball team, and Dean casually shoving Gordon into a wall that one time that could’ve escalated into deeper unpleasantness.

“I can explain,” Dean says. He chokes, mouth hanging open when Castiel obliges him with silence. No explanation rises into the void. “I… shit.”

Disappointment is too easy a word. It must show on Castiel’s face because Dean’s shoulders slump and his eyes drop to the floor. His body is tense, prepared and expecting a worthwhile retaliation. Castiel has every right to fulfill that expectation yet, stupidly, the desire rises to say something to make it better.

“I liked you,” Castiel says. Dean’s head snaps back up, something small and hopeful in his gaze. “I thought you were better than the others.”

Dean winces. “I’m not,” he says, with such low honesty that Castiel blinks with surprise. “I’m really, really not.”

Castiel makes a sound of frustration, unsure what to do with this turn of events. Zir’s life has always been like this, rife with freedoms and unfairness at every turn, but zie has so far been able to brush through or over or with the less pleasant parts. Now there’s Dean, a cornucopia of contradictions, telling zir that he is like one of _them_ , when he isn’t at all – except for the part where he’d broken into Castiel’s locker.

“You gonna report me?” Dean asks. He shrugs, more out of resignation than dismissiveness. “I get it.”

“Oh, stop it,” Castiel snaps. Zie wants to hit Dean, throttle Dean, demand that Dean stop expecting the worst from both Castiel and himself. “I don’t understand you. Sometimes you can be so… and other times so… and sometimes you look at me like…”

“Like what? Is it bad?” Dean asks quickly. “Is it bad looking, because I read up on this, bad looking totally deserves a kick in the nuts.”

Castiel starts to say _yes_ but Dean’s pale and panicking, so zie sighs and says, “No, you’re not being threatening.” Zie knows threatening, and Dean’s more annoying than anything else. “But lately whenever I see you, you’re looking at me like that, like you want to…”

Dean’s face goes oddly blank.

“This is not nice,” Castiel says, crossing zir’s arms. “What you did right here? Isn’t nice at all. In fact, it’s rather nasty and I’m angry at you.”

“Sorry,” Dean blurts, high color in his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, fucking Christ.”

“Swell,” Castiel says dryly, never impressed by swearing.

But Dean just groans “Mother fuck,” and rubs a hand over his face. “How is this my life? How is this my crisis?” His hands land on Castiel’s shoulders – they’re warm, and his presence is a little overwhelming this close – and he leans down a little to match their eyeline. “You are awesome, Cas. You have no idea how awesome you are, and I am a douchenozzle.”

It’s the strangest apology Castiel’s ever heard. “Thank you?”

“Geez, I really messed this up,” Dean mutters, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I just… I got carried away, I didn’t mean to.”

“I’ll bet you didn’t.”

“Look, I keep my word, you know that, right?” Dean asks, as solemn as Castiel’s ever heard him. Castiel nods slowly, and Dean’s exhalation is soft with relief. “I promise that I will never ever mess with your things ever again. Or freak you out – I didn’t know you noticed, but… shit, that came out wrong.”

“Perhaps you should make your exit now,” Castiel suggests.

Dean mutters another curse and backs away, wild-eyed panic returning to his eyes. “Yeah, I think I should.” He almost stumbles in his haste to escape.

“I know you took down those defamatory posters,” Castiel says to his back, and Dean freezes. “And took it up with those guys that spraypainted my car. But that doesn’t give you the right. Not in the least.”

Dean’s shoulders fall a little, but he doesn’t glance back. “I know.”

Almost a week later, Castiel reflects that that moment of watching Dean walk away practically signaled the end of an era.

Dean’s kept his promise to not be a snoop, which is good, and continues to make eye contact and talk to Castiel when there’s something to say, which is excellent. At the same time, Castiel’s quick to notice that there’s no more hands on zir’s shoulder, no more irritating flicking of zir’s hair, no more leering winks that Castiel’s always thought Dean liked to do to make other people nervous.

Dean, before, never shied from casual touches; he is tactile with everyone in his favor, which previously included Castiel. Dean, after, gives Castiel a wide berth whenever they cross paths, polite and respectful and _utterly infuriating_ even though Castiel knows that he’s not doing anything actually wrong.

When Castiel tells this to zir’s mother, she pats zir’s hand and says, “Well, honey, did you accept his apology?”

See, Castiel has every right to be angry. Dean isn’t like most of the others, and Castiel respects him enough to hold him to higher standards. That’s why Castiel’s stomach is in knots and zir’s chest gets tight whenever zie thinks about it, because _why_. Why would Dean prove himself as an inconsiderate ass when he isn’t? (Not when it counts.)

Almost two weeks of professional distance is more than enough. At their next lab class, Castiel is ready for him, decision made. As soon as Mr. Singer finishes his briefing and the class turns thick with chatter and rustling of equipment, Castiel turns to Dean says, “Do you know what you did wrong, Dean?”

Dean jerks, startled, his pen dropping from where it’d been behind his ear. “Geez, Cas, I haven’t even started setting things up and you’re already reaming me out?”

“No, I mean before,” Castiel says, adjusting the position of the Bunsen burner. “Do you understand why I’m upset with you?”

Dean makes a face. “Well, duh? I broke your privacy.”

“Yes,” Castiel says, after a beat. Dean moves away to get the things they need, leaving Castiel to stare at his back and marvel: that right there is the truth of Dean, who sees the obvious where others would have squirmed or twisted. He may not always acknowledge it, but he does see it.

“Hey, Mr. Singer’s coming,” Jo hisses at Castiel’s shoulder. Zie drags zir’s focus back to work.

Dean and zir, they work well together, small talk minimal as they get their work done and Dean only zoning out once where he should’ve been paying attention to their readings. It’s good. They’ve always been good where a lot of everything else has been tolerable, and Castiel doesn’t understand at all.

Another truth of Dean: he notices far more than people expect. When class is over and people start to clear up, it’s Castiel’s turn to jump at Dean’s soft, “You can ask for a switch, if you want. It’s cool.” Dean studies zir for a moment and then adds, “You want me to ask Singer?”

 _I don’t get you_ , Castiel wants to say, but zir’s said that before and it’d gotten them nowhere. So zie just mutters, “If you like” and turns away, not quite liking the twist in zir’s gut when Dean _does_ go to the front to talk to Mr. Singer.

It’s not that it’s unforgivable. Far from it, in fact.

For all that cousin Gabriel says that Castiel has the worst temper, zie really does understand the rest of the world may never accommodate zir. And zie’s mostly all right with that. Castiel doesn’t expect anyone to fully understand, not even zir’s parents who are the most supportive parents in the world and yet had to hide their surprise when Castiel grew up and steadfastly refused to pick either of the obvious choices. It’s not a matter of choice, it’s a matter of being, and Castiel is content. Zie knows who zie is.

But it would’ve been nice if someone _could_ understand. Maybe not from within, but close enough to the borders that Castiel could say it all out loud. They’d listen, and know, and that’d be enough.

Maybe zie had started to hope.

“Dean, you left your—” Castiel turns, and stumbles with surprise because Dean is right behind zir, zie had been lost in thought and not noticed. Now, when zie looks up, Dean’s eyes are closed and his face is—

Dean’s eyes fly open.

“Were you…” Castiel boggles, confused. “Were you _smelling_ me?”

“No,” Dean says quickly. He blinks, wavers, and then mutters, “Yes. Uh anyway, Singer said he’s cool with—”

“What?” Castiel grabs Dean’s sleeve because he’s poised to run again. “What was that?”

“We gotta go,” Dean says, eyes darting around self-consciously. Most of the others are gone but not all of them, and Mr. Singer is clearing his throat to get them a-going. Castiel shoves Dean’s book at him and then drags him out of the room, determined not to let this go before zie gets down to it.

“Dean, you’ve been acting really strange,” Castiel says, pulling him along down the corridor. “Stranger than me, if I might add.”

“Hey, that’s a compliment,” Dean says cheerfully, and it’s almost enough to mask the thread of tension in his voice. “C’mon, Cas, I said I was sorry.” His hand wraps around Castiel’s wrist, ostensibly to remove it, but he pauses.

A school hallway is hardly the best place for minor revelation.

When Castiel turns to Dean, zie’s about to demand that Dean stop with the bullcrap or else, but the threat doesn’t get its chance. A moment of weakness on Dean’s part, a brief flash across his face, a crack in whatever Dean does the rest of the time, and Castiel sees. Or at least, _starts_ to see, and it’s all sorts of things – fear and hunger and guilt and a dozen other things all wrapped in one.

For a long moment Castiel is uncomprehending. Then it gradually trickles into zir’s brain that Dean’s hand is still on zir’s, warm and wanting to be there.

Dean breaks first, turning away and letting his hand fall. “I’ve got class.”

“So do I,” Castiel says, though zir’s mouth is moving mostly on automatic.

“I better…” Dean rummages in with his bag, using it as a prop for protection as he continues to not look at Castiel. “Better get going. Gonna be late. See ya, Cas.”

It takes the better part of History class for it to really sink in what just happened. Zir plays the moment again and again in zir’s head, then shifts through everything else that Dean’s been doing – all the ways that Dean’s been acting. As a result, Castiel misses most of the week’s assignment but goes for lunch with a clear head and a firm mission.

It’s easy to corner Dean, because he’s not expecting it. Dean knows that Castiel prefers to be non-confrontational – during the memorable spraypainting incident, for example, Dean had yelled at Castiel for not complaining to the headmaster about it – and so Dean thinks that Castiel is _never_ confrontational.

This is why Dean chokes on his chocolate milk when Castiel sits down across from him.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says. Zie doesn’t have a tray, but zie doubts anyone cares. “May I sit here?”

“Sure,” says Victor, ignoring the quick glare of _what the fuck_ Dean shoots his way. “Goddamn, what do they fry these tater tots in, glue?”

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says weakly, and Castiel can tell that he’s already formulating exit strategies. “Where’s your lunch? You should get some, there’s some pretty neat—”

“You know better,” Castiel says firmly. Victor politely pretends that all his attention is on the cheerleaders practicing their routines the quad. “I know you do. Yet you did exactly what you hate in others, and I think I know why.”

“I thought we figured that out already,” Dean says. “I’m just like everyone else.”

“No,” Castiel hisses, “That’s not it.”

Jo arrives at their table with a loud, “Hi, guys!” She pushes her tray towards Castiel, who nods and takes an overripe apple slice. “Oh my god, Victor, let me guess, did you get harassed by Pamela, too?”

“I do not want to see any more of that girl’s piercings,” Victor says flatly.

Castiel sighs, frustrated. Zie knows this has to happen now, before Dean flees and does whatever he does to things he doesn’t like to think or talk about. Yet this is hardly the ideal location, for even with the comfort of noise all around them, Castiel doesn’t want to have to force Dean to say anything he wouldn’t want his friends to hear.

“If you were a girl…” Dean says, swallowing nervously while Victor and Jo start talking louder over them, “If you were a girl, I’d have asked you out a long time ago.”

Castiel blinks. “Oh.”

“You know they’re saying that Ruby’s trying to usurp Jess as top dog contender?” Jo says, chewing on her juice box straw. “Damn, girl.”

“Jess can take care of herself,” Victor replies. “I’d worry more about how Sam’s doing on the squad. He looks like he’s cracking.”

Castiel leans forward, and feels a leap in zir’s chest when Dean doesn’t draw back. “What if I were a boy?”

“Then I’d know for sure,” Dean says quietly – not because it’s something he’s ashamed of, but because it’s something that’s meant only for Castiel. “I mean… You can’t help it, I get that now, but if I only _knew_ , then maybe…” He shrugs.

“Then maybe you’d know who _you_ are?” Castiel offers.

People always say that Castiel’s the one with the intense stare; they’ve obviously never been subject to Dean’s. “Yeah.”

Castiel’s never put too much thought into this before. Zie’s only ever dated one person in zir’s entire life, which might not even count because Balthazar’s tastes are indiscriminate enough that Castiel doubts he has any taste at all. So zie tries to think now, from Dean’s point of view, what it would be like to be a boy who’s always thought of himself as straight and has suddenly had that little bit of ground crumble beneath his feet.

“I’m neither,” Castiel says.

Dean frowns. “You’re intersex?”

Castiel is so shocked that Dean knows that intersex even exists that zie doesn’t immediately correct him. And by the time the shock has passed, Castiel’s too busy frozen in place by Dean’s slow sweeping gaze, moving down Castiel’s body.

Dean’s mouth falls open a little, and this time he doesn’t even try to hide the heat in his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, “Still there.”

Castiel corrects zir’s summation; this is the _worst_ place for this conversation. Castiel wants to crawl over the table and into Dean’s lap and find out what Dean’s smirk tastes like.

“They’re just ridiculous,” Victor’s saying to Jo.

“But we already knew that,” Jo replies.

They knew, Castiel realizes. Maybe not the full the extent of it, but Dean’s apparently been ruminating on this matter long enough and hard enough that his best friends are already aware. This is proof obvious that Dean’s shame is for himself, and Castiel decides right there and then that zie would like nothing better than to help fix that.

“Today, after school?” Castiel suggests.

Dean makes a sound that’s almost a wheeze. “Sure.”

This is how, a couple of interminable hours later, Castiel finds zirself in Dean’s room, actually on top of Dean and being kissed out of breath.

It’s almost surprising that they’d gotten here after the most awkward pre-foreplay dialogue in the world where Castiel had explained that being neither wasn’t the same as being intersex, followed an equally uncomfortable first kiss. Dean’s eyes had fluttered with surprised pleasure but he’d been stiff and unsure what he was allowed, right until the moment Castiel grabbed the back of his neck and tried to climb him.

Now there’s this, Castiel drowning in Dean’s focus and determination.

Dean’s sucking on Castiel’s tongue and groaning into Castiel’s mouth and digging his fingers down Castiel’s back (but no further). It’s intoxicating and, truth be told, a little scary by how much Castiel wants it now when zie’s only ever thought about it as something zie might try someday in the future.

“Holy shit,” Dean gasps against Castiel’s cheek. His voice is thick with arousal, which is not unpleasant. “Slow down or I’m gonna…” He laughs, just a little hysterically.

“Good idea,” Castiel replies, is surprised by the matching huskiness of zir’s own voice. Zie leans back to marvel at Dean’s face, the glassy look in his eyes and redness of his lips. Castiel thinks zie could bask in it all day, and sits neatly on Dean’s lap to try.

“Hey,” Dean says suddenly, gaze suddenly going sharp. Their bodies are tight against each other, Dean’s stomach and stiffening cock pressed firmly against Castiel. The sensation goes both ways, and Dean shifts experimentally, rubbing against the inside of Castiel’s thighs. “Cas, you’re…”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “I’m what?”

Dean grins. “You’re heavy.” And then he pulls Castiel down to make out some more.


End file.
